


With You

by Selkiessong



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: #MaybeSheDoesntHitYou, Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Jaimsa endgame, Modern Westeros, not cersei friendly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-03-24 16:22:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13814940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selkiessong/pseuds/Selkiessong
Summary: In Lannisport fashion historian Sansa Stark spends one afternoon a week volunteering at a neighborhood library. She has a job and friends thank you very much for asking, but she likes to give back to her adopted city.Jaime Lannister is fine. No, really. He has a job and he's fine.For the ASoIaF Rare Pairs prompt: Sansa helps an emotionally scarred Jaime to heal.Many thanks to  Starlight Asteria





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read carefully: This is a Modern AU fanfiction which contains the following:  
> 1\. Cat as a good mother to everyone including Arya and Jon  
> 2\. Sansa and Arya getting along the way as do any other adult siblings  
> 3\. Criticism of Rhaegar Targaryen  
> 4\. Criticism of Lyanna Stark  
> 5\. Some questioning of Ned Stark's choices  
> 6\. Jamie and Cersei as double first cousins rather than siblings-I cannot see blood siblings knowingly having children with today's knowledge of genetics  
> 7\. Cersei/Jaime as an abusive relationship  
> 8\. Female on male abuse  
> 9\. Cersei as an abuser  
> If any of the above really bothers you, you may want to consider reading a different fic. There are so many great writers on this site, don't torture yourself by reading something written in a way you despise. Find something you enjoy reading.

   "Hello, I'm calling from the Leila Memorial Library. May I speak with Jaime Lannister please?"

   "Speaking." Why is the library, of all places, calling him? He can’t remember the last time he checked a book out.

   "I'm calling because you're listed as an emergency contact for Myrcella and Tommen Baratheon, and"

   "What happened to them?!" Ok fine, he's panicking but that's an acceptable response for an emergency isn't it? Anyone would worry, even if they aren't a parent.

   "Oh, I'm so sorry," the lightly accented voice is remorseful. "I didn’t mean to worry you, they're both absolutely fine. I'm calling because they were supposed to be picked up half an hour ago, and I haven't been able to get through to anyone."

   "But they're alright?" he needs to be sure before his heartrate returns to normal. "They're both ok?"

   "Yes, Mr. Lannister," miraculously she doesn't sound remotely condescending. "They're both fine, and I feel terrible for giving you such a scare. You're listed as someone to call if we can't reach a parent or primary caregiver, and I thought you were aware of that."

   "No, no one told me anything."

   "Well then Mr. Lannister I'm very sorry to have bothered you, and I'll make a note-"

   "I can pick them up!"

   "Oh, ah, that's great," she sounds a bit taken aback with him. "Do you know where we are located?"

   "Yes, the building with the lions."

   "They're distinctive, aren’t they? I'll let your niece and nephew know you'll be here,"

   "Cousins."

   "Pardon?" He can pick out a hint of Oldtown and something else.

   "Cousins, they're my cousin's children." That's important.

   "Alright, I'll let them know that someone is on their way to pick them up. When you get here please let them talk first, and be prepared to show your ID. If they're picked up before you get here, I'll call and let you know. Can I use this number?"

   "Yes, this is my cell."

   "Thank you so much, Mr. Lannister."

   "Mr. Lannister’s my father." Not him. He's the afterthought, the trick of fate. "I'm just Jaime."

   Somehow, he keeps to very respectable ten miles over the speed limit on his way to the library. It's very rare that he spends time with his, with _the_ , children and the prospect of an uninterrupted car ride without anyone cutting their time short or dragging them away is quite simply, his idea of heaven as pathetic as it sounds. If it means he’s a selfish man, then so be it; but he hopes desperately that nobody comes for Myrcella and Tommen before he does for the entire trip. Even though the librarian whoever she is had already been waiting for a half hour before she called him.

   Fifteen minutes, two orange lights, and skidding into a parking space abruptly enough to startle the squirrels playing chase later, he slows down as he crosses between the lions standing sentinel at either side of the library doors fueled by some almost forgotten memory to walk calmly and quietly in a library or suffer the consequences.

   “Excuse me, but do you know” he wants to ask the man at the desk where he should go, but apparently his appearance is a bit of a giveaway.

   “Took you long enough,” the man grumbles. “You do realize that we don’t run a free babysitting service here? We do story-time, after which parents are supposed to _promptly_ retrieve their children, not saunter in whenever they feel like it. ID?” he gives the driver’s license a cursory once over. “Around the corner to your right, make sure you apologize, and try to come within at least ten minutes next week.”

   It’s been a long time since he was last here, and they’ve done renovations since then, but he finds the children’s section easily enough. In addition to the smaller furniture, he can hear children’s excited whispers as they try to be quiet but can’t quite manage it. Mindful of the strict instructions he received and of the grumpy man at the desk, he forces himself to stillness when he sees the two little blond children.

   “Uncle Jaime!” both of their library voices go out the window as they run over. It’s like being tackled and hugged by an octopus, and he feels semi-familiar overpowering relief.  They know who he is, they haven’t forgotten him, they’ve missed him. It’s a heady, bittersweet mix, and for one minute he allows himself to savor it, to bend down and hug them, to pretend he’ll never let them go.

   “Uncle?” it’s the same voice from the phone, faintly accented with Oldtown, and, now that he sees her wearing a light sweater, the North.

   “It’s easier to explain,” he answers with a shrug. “You try calling yourself a double first cousin once removed to a seven and a five-year-old.”

   “I take your point,” she says with an easy smile. “That’s quite a mouthful, although it explains the resemblance.  I’m Sansa Stark.”

   “Jaime Lannister,” he says introducing himself, before realizing that she already knows.

   “So you’ve said,” she says agreeably. “Mr. Lannister is your father, I remember. I don’t mean to rush you out, but it is a bit late and I haven’t been able to get through to their parents or their usual nanny. Would you feel comfortable explaining what happened this afternoon? You didn’t know you were listed as someone to call-I’ll take care of that right away-“

   “No!” he can’t help himself. “I mean, it’s not a problem, I don’t mind, you can call whenever you want.”

   The same luck that allowed him to see the children smiles on him again because Sansa gives a very mild nod before turning her attention back to the children who are starting to shift from one adult to another.

   “Will I see you both next week?” she asks with a smile, not at all like someone who’s been working almost an hour overtime. He feels bad about that. Really. Or he will later tonight.

   “Are we allowed to come back?” Myrcella asks hesitantly, holding Tommen’s hand tightly. “Even though we kept you waiting forever?”

   “Hmm,” Sansa kneels so she’s at eye level. “Do you take good care of your library books?” Both children nod. “Do you try your best to return them on time?” Another set of nods. “Do you follow the library rules?” They nod again and Sansa smiles open and inviting. “Then of course you can come back.”

   The two jump on her and give her one of their octopus hugs, and Jaime feels just the slightest bit jealous of that.

   “Bye Miss Sansa!” the two carol as they walk out to the car, past the grumpy man who actually smiles at them-he must not be that bad after all although the scowl is firmly in place for Jaime.

   Naturally he drives the two home at just under the speed limit while taking the scenic route.  He’s sure that he’ll have messed something up and that there will be hell to pay, but at the moment he can listen to them chatter over each other about how sometimes dolphins help rescue whales even though they don’t speak the same language and isn’t that amazing, Uncle Jaime? Did you know that Uncle Jaime?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lions are totally Patience and Fortitude.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning: there is a Jaime/Cersei interactions with everything that goes with that.

**8:15am** \- I’m sorry Cersei

**9:00am** -No new messages

  **9:30am** \- Are you still angry?

   “May I help you?” the woman at the reference desk asks pointedly. He got past the lions and the still grouchy security guard. He can do this.

   “I’d like a book about dolphins, please.” He can do this. He’s learned tricks, and this won’t be anything like reading out loud. He’ll have something to talk about with Myrcella and Tommen. He can do this.

   “Here,” the woman answers scribbling something on a small piece of paper, “look under these numbers.”

   His heart sinks when he sees the string of numbers; the woman has a small cramped writing and the numbers aren’t behaving themselves, but for the first time in what feels like forever he has a topic of conversation that he knows his, _the,_ children are interested in, so he tries again.

   “Where do I find the numbers?” he asks hoping she doesn’t think he’s a complete idiot. He can do this.

   “They’re on the labels on the spines of the books.”

    “Thank you.” Little children use libraries. Myrcella and Tommen come every week. He can do this.

   Except he can’t. _Of course._ What had he expected? The numbers and letters are crowded too close together, the rows of books loom endless and he can’t. This is exactly like grade school where he was always in trouble for skipping class because the words sounded different in his head than when someone else said them. Stupid, stupid Jaime.

  **9:45am** No new messages

**10:45am** -I’m sorry for bothering you this morning I know you’re busy

   “Good morning, Jaime,” Willas calls out from where he’s tinkering with their finnicky coffee maker. Oh no.

   “Please don’t tell me you’re playing around with the coffee,” he half-begs, although he doesn’t know why he even bothers. Every other day either Willas or Arthur plays with the coffee. This is what he gets for running a business with a Dornishman and a Reachman, endless fights over coffee. Not politics, not history, not even sports. Coffee. Every. Other. Day.

   “I’m experimenting,” Willas replies with a put-upon voice that is entirely at odds with his personality. “If I need to be alert for twenty-four hours I drink Dornish coffee, and it tastes like it. Something has to give.”

   “And Allyira goes for that, does she?”

   “Allyria is a wise woman who owns her own coffee machine. Besides,” Willas says as he fills the pot with water, “coffee is secondary. Chocolate is what’s important or so I’ve been told. Never buy a Dornishwoman white chocolate, Jaime. It’s not worth the lecture.”

   “White chocolate is a misnomer,” Arthur adds coming into the tiny back office, casting a dubious look at Willas standing by the coffee machine, who smiles back beatifically. “White chocolate doesn’t contain any cocoa nibs, only cocoa butter. Therefore, it is not chocolate and is only good for decorating. There had better not be another imitation hazelnut compound in that coffee.”

**11:00am** No new messages

“All right,” Arthur starts, still looking at the coffee as thought it might explode, “just so everyone is on the same page- I’ve been in touch with the Twins’ School of Psychology, and they have several graduate students who are interested in equine therapy and would like to study here. So far they’re stuck in red tape…”

**12:00pm** No new messages

**12:05pm** **…**

   “What’s up Jaime?” Willas interrupts as he considers whether or not to try apologizing again. He thought Cersei had said they would talk today, but sometimes he misunderstood her.

   “My girlfriend,” he shrugs. Cersei would kill him if she ever found out, but it’s an easy story to tell.

   “She’s kept you waiting all day?”

   “She’s a busy woman, I can’t ask her to drop everything to send me a message.” At least he tries not to. He’s not very good boyfriend material, but slowly, slowly he’s trying to learn.

   “If she’s your girlfriend, she should make some time to send you a quick message,” Willas carries on stubbornly. “And if she doesn’t you should find a new girlfriend.”

   “With this?” he mocks, waving his right hand with its deep cuff of scar tissue.

   “Or this?” Willas shoots back, gesturing as his bad leg. “I should sic Allyria on you for that.”

   “Why do I put up with you again?”

   “Well, Jaime it’s easy. Arthur may have pioneered equine therapy as a trauma treatment and everyone knows that you practically speak horse. But out of all of us, who’s actually used horses to rebuild a sense of self after he realized he would always limp hmm? I’m your first success case. And you love annoying my grandmother,” he adds with his most Tyrell smirk.

**12:30pm** No new messages

**1:00pm** No new messages

**1:30pm** Come to my office. I have a few minutes to talk

He almost drops the phone and quickly texts back, “Right now?”

**1:49pm** Why? Are you too busy? Do you not want to see me?

**1:50pm** Of course not I’m coming now

**1:57pm** Don’t take too long. I can only talk for a few minutes

   “Cersei?” He had driven even more recklessly than usual until he reached the city limits where he was forced to slow down. “Did I keep you waiting?”

“A little,” she smiles, “Close the door.”

 “About last night, I, what are you doing?” he almost yelps as she pushes him into a chair and runs her fingers down his body.

  “I’m helping you make it up to me,” she answers patiently stroking him hard and fast.   

   

   “No, wait, wait.” He thought they were only going to talk. He hadn’t thought to bring any protection with him.

   “What’s the matter Jaime?” Cersei smiles, maintaining her merciless rhythm, and he curses himself, his body. “You seem to be enjoying yourself.”

   “I don’t have any,” he breaks off huffing, trying to control his reactions. Why does he need to be so responsive? “Cersei, wait, I don’t have a condom on me!”

_Stupid,_ he berates himself wondering if he’s earned himself a slap of displeasure. Why couldn’t he anticipate such a simple thing.

   “No?” Cersei purrs. “Well,” she says offandly tumbling him onto the floor and seating herself on the chair, “fortunately there are other ways.”

   He can do this, he can do this. He can get over himself and actually pleasure her. Still, he gulps a deep breath before lowering his face to her. It’s selfish of him but going down on her something he would rather do without. He had found his way, panicking, out of a fire once with a wet sweater over his mouth and nose and, since then anything hot and wet pressed tightly on his face left him tense as though he was suffocating.

   “Yesterday,” he mentions when it’s over, trying to hide how badly shaken he is, not wanting her to think he isn’t grateful, “I thought the library had the wrong number at first, I would never have given my number without telling you-“

   “Is that what’s had you so worried?” Cersei scoffs. “You in a library?” she laughs, “I didn’t even think you knew where it was. You in a library! That’s a good one!”

   He can’t say he disagrees.

**4:02pm** I’m sorry about earlier

**4:22pm** Never mind.

   His screen lights up again.

**4:23pm** Next time I’ll have you moaning like a whore

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Having read this does anyone think I should add to the tags?
> 
> Comments are welcome :)


	3. Chapter 3

   “Miss Sansa?” Little Myrcella inquired shyly, “How does someone have hair made out of gold?”  

   “Hmm?” Sansa answered distractedly. Arys Oakheart was predictably late to pick up his charges even if he had picked up his phone to say he was on his way.

   “In the story the princess has golden hair. How did her hair turn into gold?”

    “That’s what’s called a metaphor.”

    “What’s a metaphor?”

    “Me-ta-phor.” Sansa enunciated carefully breaking the new word into its syllables. “A metaphor is when you describe something. Like, if someone has shiny blond hair, you say their hair is gold because it looks like gold.”

   “Ohh.” Myrcella’s face was adorably serious as she filed the new word away.

   And think of the Dragon and he will appear, Arys came rushing in mumbling apologies and excuses. All of which would have been a little more effective if this wasn’t a weekly occurrence, and if any adult in the Baratheon family had been even slightly regretful over last week’s fiasco.

   “Good-bye Miss Sansa,” the two chorused giving her a quick double hug before being directed out the door, with Myrcella keeping a firm hold on her little brother’s hand. It was little moments like this that had Sansa daydreaming a bit about having her own family. That and Tommen who as usual was having the finger puppets as a fireman rescuing a child. Not for the first time, Sansa wondered why she never saw the children with their parents. She understood that adults had jobs, and that sometimes a break and self-care was necessary for everyone’s mental health, but to never see a child’s parents especially when said children would chatter about their teachers, their playmates and classmates, the nanny who was always on his phone but made the _bestest_ noodles and cheese?  Since neither one of them showed signs of abuse or neglect Sansa tried her best to mind her own business remembering how her parents had almost had Child Protective Services called on them when Bran and Arya were in their daredevil stage and covered with bruises.  But it was still strange that that she heard more about the uncle they apparently rarely saw than about a parent.

   “I’m sorry, Sansa? Sansa Stark?”

   “Yes, how can I-oh you came back,” she exclaimed in some surprise seeing the two’s cousin standing in front of her with his hands shoved into his pockets.

    “I’m sorry, I’ll go.”

   “No, no, it’s fine.” Sansa chattered, trying to make him feel welcome.  ‘It’s just that I just had Myrcella and Tommen for story time, and you just missed them because of course their nanny came late, he’s never come on time actually now that I think about it, and I was just surprised to see you because they were talking about you, and-“

   “They talk about me?” Jaime said unbelievingly, “they- do they like me?”

   “You sound like one of their favorite people,” Sansa reassured him even as she felt the odd prickle of at the back of her neck. Nothing made sense. “Ah, can I help you with something?”

   “Dolphins,” he mumbled so low she could barely hear, “I wanted to learn about dolphins, and I couldn’t find the right numbers last time, but you were really nice even though you were waiting for almost an hour last time, and I thought that maybe you wouldn’t mind helping me.”

   “Dolphins?” It takes a minute to make sense of the seeming non sequitur. “Oh, they must have told you about the books.” It was always endearing when parents or in this case cousins educated themselves about their children’s interests. “Do you know how to use a catalog?”

   “Not really,” he told the floor, looking like he fully expected her to ask him to leave.

   “Come I’ll show you.” After a month exclusively devoted to cataloging and classification a basic search was easy as breathing to Sansa. “I always thought the library should offer occasional how-to guides about the classification system,” she mentioned casually as she opened the library’s catalog, trying to put Jaime at ease. “First you open the catalog like this, and see that search field? That’s where you type what you’re looking for. If you know the title or author you can put that in, but if you don’t you can enter any search term. So I’m going to enter ‘dolphins’ and see I get a list of possible terms to use.”

   “I see.”

   Except he doesn’t seem to, or not quite. It’s almost like he looked over the page without focusing on anything.

   “Then you can click on what seems the closest to what you’re looking for. I don’t know exactly what you’d like to start with so you tell me.”

   “That one.”

   Dolphins in fiction? They hadn’t read anything like that so far, and it’s obvious that he chose it entirely at random, almost as if he couldn’t tell the difference.

   “Sorry, my mistake,” she said as casually as possible. It seems almost as though Jaime will run if she says the wrong words. “I should have told you what we’ve been reading instead of letting you guess.  I just put away the books,” she added, “I don’t usually know where they're located without looking, but in this case, here. They’re children’s books, I hope you don’t mind the large print and pictures.”

   “These are perfect,” he says quietly, eyes immediately going to the illustrations and hours of listening to Robb study out loud clues her in. He’s dyslexic, and was probably never given any tools to compensate. “I’m sorry to have kept you.”

   “It’s fine, I’m at the point where I’m tempted to make Monday leftovers for dinner night.” Mostly because his cousin couldn’t seem to have her children picked up on time, but that wasn’t his fault.

   “Only Mondays?” he almost sounds disappointed, and she wondered if it was books or librarians that had him skittish in libraries.

   “Well I’m not really a children’s librarian. I mean I can be, but my real job’s at the museum. Have you been there?”

   “Not really. I mean,” he’s was looking at the floor again and running his fingers over the books’ spines, “my girlfriend doesn’t like to go, and I don’t want to make her uncomfortable, or make everything about me.”

   “Well you can go yourself,” Sansa started before realizing that the stress of reading the small print on the information plaques would probably take away any enjoyment of the exhibits, “Or I can show you around.” Much better.

   “No, no, I can’t bother you, you must have better things to do than show me around.”

   “But that _is_ my job, Jaime.” He must have had a terrible time in school if his reaction to anyone offering help is to apologize. “I get paid to show people around and answer all kinds of questions.”

   “It’s an open invitation.” It was a bit strange that visiting a museum had his eyes darting in all directions, but then some people avoided spur of the moment decisions. “I’m there every weekday except Monday.”

   “Maybe, I mean I should check these out,” he nodded to the books. “I’ve already kept you too long.”

   It was sweet how he was so invested in his niece and nephew, and she felt a flicker of regret that he was unavailable. It wasn’t terribly progressive, but she was a romantic who daydreamed about caring men.

   Then, because the horror story that was Ramsey Snow was still felt throughout the North Sansa dug her phone out of her bag and opened her friend group.

   **SnowBird** : Does anyone know anything about Jaime Lannister?

 **RightCiderLife** : I’ve met him a few times.

   **SnowBird** : And?

   **RightCiderLife** : Pretty quiet but I can see him being a bit of a snark. No wandering hands :)

 **EyeoftheViper** : I concur and I’ve chatted with him. Didn’t know you did though.

 **RightCiderLife** : It’s the strangest thing. My husband is your boyfriend’s brother who’s business partners with your brother. I was shocked, shocked! to meet a co-worker of theirs when Garlan and I dropped in to see the new horse.

  **EyeoftheViper** : THAT HORSE!!!!!!!

  **RightCiderLife** : The rider matches ;) ;)

 **SnowBird** : Not to ruin your window shopping ladies, but can we get back to me freaking out about the possibility that I may have told him where I work?

   **RightCiderLife** : Oooh I’m all ears but seriously Garlan likes him and he’s a walking creep-meter.

  **EyeoftheViper** : Sansa! Details!

 **SnowBird** : I introduced him to the joys of Decimal Classifications.

  **EyeoftheViper** : DETAILS

 **RightCiderLife** : And?

  **SnowBird** : And nothing. I gave my standard “libraries are for everyone and librarians are here to help”, he asked if I’m here every day, I told him I work at the museum, he said he remembered going, I told him to stop in any day except Monday and I’d show him around.

   Sansa hesitated then shrugged.

 **SnowBird** :  I’m hoping this can be the start of a long and beautiful nerd friendship.

 

 

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<https://www.pinterest.com/storiesandprettythings/with-you-ao3/>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story now has a Pinterest board, click the link and as usual feel free to look around.  
> Comments are welcome!


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